Flood of despair

I was a teenager when I was first exposed to the impact of climate breakdown, while staying with a family in Phakding in the aftermath of the 2015 earthquake. 

The communities living along the river were so scared of the Imja Tso glacial lake bursting that they hiked a few hours up the mountain every night for safety. During the day, they came back down to run their tea houses for volunteers and tourists still up in the Khumbu.

There is a clear correlation between livelihoods and the climate crisis. Seeing first hand, ten years ago, how the impact of climate change deepens poverty profoundly shifted my perspective, and motivated me to take up a career on climate finance.

I learnt everything about the subject, worked on projects to mobilise millions of dollars for climate action so that those most vulnerable would be safe. 

Yet, this weekend’s floods have shown me that on the ground, absolutely nothing has changed. Those most at risk from climate hazards are at even more risk.

Read also: When it rains it pours, Sonia Awale

Read also: Kathmandu's ‘flash floods’ are 4 decades in the making, Tom Robertson

It is dreadful to realise that the worst is yet to come. We in the climate finance sector are lost in words, actions and false promises of organisations purporting to help vulnerable countries, communities and families. 

There are lofty climate targets and hopeful speeches on net-zero ambitions prepared by people who have no idea of the ground reality. Young people I used to respect proudly demonstrate their saviour complex and exoticise the poor to advance their brand image on social media to gain brownie points. 

This week, early-rising trail runners, youth groups, and local communities became first responders on the muddy banks of rivers in Kathmandu Valley for rescue and recovery. From agencies claiming to work on 'disaster risk reduction', we heard only words and media campaigns.

Am I the only one losing hope in us collectively responding to what the future requires us to do?  

Disasters are now increasingly normalised as Nepal crosses the tipping point on climate breakdown. Elitism and inequality has never been more apparent. 

Read also: Act now on climate, Manjeet Dhakal

This week’s tragedy showed how the high and mighty were safe, and the lowly forced to live along river banks were not. Those who are thinking of moving away from flood-prone areas, buying home insurance and protecting themselves from future impact are perhaps the very people abetting the destruction of the natural environment.

The two rivers that saw the most devastation this week, Rosi Khola and Nakkhu Khola, had unregulated sand mining and rampant quarrying upstream — all happening in the name of ‘development’.

I spoke with a dairy farmer in Hatiban whose home and 13 cows were swept away by a stream that had turned into a raging mudflow. He is out in the streets now, with just the one cow that survived. He teared up telling me this. So did I.

A carpenter who lives in a small tin hut near the Karmanasa River told me he has had enough and is now headed back to his village. A neighbourhood garbage recycler has spent the past week living inside a stack of large concrete pipes meant to improve Kathmandu's drainage. 

A decade after starting to work on climate change, I know nothing about what to actually do to adapt to the impact of the climate crisis like this one. The 800mm of rain in two days was caused by global warming, but the death toll was higher because of corruption and state negligence.

Read also: Climate damage

There are thousands of tragic stories from this flood, most of them will never be heard. Many are already forgotten. 

The guilt coming from the privilege of even being in a position to help in times like these eats me up from the inside. I have spoken to many friends this week working tirelessly, without recognition or organisational support, to help with relief and rescue. Many share the same sentiment: the disaster swept away what little optimism we had.

Yet, there is also hope in the way we have all come together knee-deep in mud, carrying relief supplies and cash to those marooned, destitute and homeless. It is clear that top-down response from the government or large relief organisations is always too little, too late and too ineffective. Those who lost everything do not know how to work the system.

Read also: Climate breakdown magnifies western Nepal’s woes, Unnati Chaudhary

In such situations, we must take matters into our own hands. We need to be aware of the impending impact of climate change, and make our own decisions to build and rebuild resilience among those forced to live in harm's way.  

The passion to tackle the climate crisis will not come if we do not have personal stories of how we ourselves are affected. Almost everyone in Kathmandu Valley, Kavre, Dhading and elsewhere now has a personal experience of this climate-induced calamity. The question is, what are we going to do about it? 

As I write this on Thursday morning on 3 October, it is raining heavily again.  

Rastra Raj Bhandari is a co-founder and fellow at the Himalayan Water Project, where he leads the research on climate finance opportunities for the Himalaya. He contributes regularly to Nepali Times on climate change. rastrarajbhandari@gmail.com

HOW TO HELP

· Civil society action is filling gaps in relief and rehab until bigger players take over. 9858000000

· Sudan Gurung, Hami Nepal

· Saurav Rimal, Karmayog Foundation, 9851139412